


Steam

by boomsherlocka



Series: Alternate Meetings [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomsherlocka/pseuds/boomsherlocka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John meet saving a puppy in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steam

Everything happened in slow motion. It was pouring down rain, traffic was crawling, and John was drenched from head to toe. There was no way he was getting a cab in this weather. He was about to give it all up as a lark when two things happened at once. A tall man in a great billowing coat yelled something before darting into traffic. That was quickly followed by a squeal of tyres and a thump of impact.

As John fought his way through the gawkers, bellowing “Get back, I’m a doctor!” The man climbed down off of the hood of one of the cabs, cradling his arm gingerly before kneeling, throwing his rain-drenched curls off of his forehead in the process.

“What the hell are you doing, trying to kill yourself?” John snapped to the man’s back.

The man did not look up but he extended an arm. “Give me your jacket, he may be hurt.”

“Who?” John asked, even as he shrugged out of his sodden jacket. Horns were blaring around them but the man seemed not to hear.

He snatched up the jacket and laid it on the pavement, carefully transferring a small ball of sodden fur onto it before carefully wrapping it up. The man cradled the small creature, a frown deeply carved on his brow, and John asked “Is…is it okay?” The man started to respond but the din of honking horns and shouts were too loud for anything to be heard. “Oh, fuck off,” John shouted, flicking the V before bodily steering the man through traffic and toward the pavement. John couldn’t help but notice the man’s wince.

“I live near here,” the man grumbled, his voice low and tight.

“Do you need help?” John asked, following for a few steps. “I’m a doctor, I can check out your arm.”

The man froze for a moment, turning toward John. His cheeks blazed with cold and his frown deepened. The puppy’s head poked out of the coat and it barked, looking at John. John couldn’t help his grin at the sight. “An extra set of hands wouldn’t be remiss,” the man relented. “But my arm is fine. No need for your medical expertise.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he lived nearby. The walk took less than five minutes, and by the time they arrived the rain had died down. John shook as much water from himself as possible before following the man and the bundle upstairs. “Come along, how about a warm bath?” the man asked.

John was confused and flustered until he realized that the man was talking to the puppy. John, partly to hide his embarrassment and partly to make himself useful, set off to get a fire started in the cluttered but cozy sitting room. By the time the fire was large and crackling the man came back with the puppy wrapped in a fluffy white towel. He sat down on the rug in front of the fire, rubbing the puppy’s back.

“I saw someone throw it out of their car window,” the man muttered. “I examined him in the bath and he appears relatively unscathed, though I am not sure how that happened. I suppose he is just a very lucky creature.”

“Lucky you saw him,” John agreed. The small  red puppy, most likely an Irish Setter, had stopped shaking from cold and had settled into the warmth, yawning as he curled up to sleep. “He’s cute.”

The man hummed, watching the puppy for a moment before standing with a stretch. “You are welcome to stay and dry out a bit. Would you like some tea? Might help take the chill off.”

“Thanks, that would be lovely,” John replied, stretching his feet toward the fire. His shoes quickly began smoking as the water began to evaporate. “My name is John, by the way.”

The man returned with two steaming mugs of tea and gave John one. His fingers stung a bit at the sudden warmth. “Cheers,” John muttered, blowing away the steam.

The man settled back on the rug, his hand sett ling on the puppy’s long, soft ear for a moment. “I am Sherlock Holmes,” he toned, sliding his feet toward the fire as well. The man’s shoes were ridiculously expensive, still shining despite the mud and water.

Soon they too began to steam, and the puppy snuffled softly in sleep. 


End file.
